Page 25 of Lessons in Cruelty

Haven

I opted for a ballerina bun today. Makes my hair look less greasy, and I think it goes better with the calf-length yellow sundress I’m wearing. It’s thrifted, but it’s got Gucci on the label so I’m calling it vintage and rolling with it.

There’s even a lick of mascara on my lashes. Don’t know how long it was in the glove compartment before I found it, so I’m definitely risking an eye infection.

Worth it.

After listening to the ‘healing affirmations’ cassette tape I also discovered in the glove box, I’m ready to tackle whatever fresh hell comes my way.

I am happy.

I am successful.

I am worthy.

And fuck anyone who thinks otherwise.

Nora smiles when she sees me, and that smile blossoms into a grin when I slap the Financial Responsibility form down on the freshly polished counter.

“That was quick!”

I shrug like it’s nothing. “I told his guru it would mess with my dad’s vibes if I got kicked out of college because he was too busy aligning his chakras to sign a form.”

She giggles as she slides the form down to her desk and gives it a quick scan. “Beautiful, thank you, sweetie.”

When she looks up and sees a candy bar sitting on the counter, her cheeks turn rosy.

“They were on sale.”

Liar. I used my five finger discount at the drugstore down the road from the diner where I work. Those dudes seriously need to put up a camera. But if they did, I’d have to buy my candy.

“Cheerio.” I give her a wink, wiggling my fingers at her as I tuck my tote bag under my arm and head for the stairs.

I almost make it.

“Oh, Haven, dear! Just a minute, sweetie.”

Fuck.

Well, no matter how this ends, at least I went down swinging.

My hand is still on the balustrade as I turn to give her a forced smile. “Uh-huh?”

“The annual Rain Dance is coming up. The flyers just got dropped off this morning. Would you like one?”

Stress kills. My cortisol levels must be sky high by now.

I trot back to her to fetch a flyer, the slap of my flip-flops seeming to echo through the hushed reception area. I wish I could say they were some designer brand too, but they’re about three flops away from disintegrating, so…

There’s still plenty of time before I have to meet Professor Rooke. His lectures start at eleven every Tuesday and Thursday. Thankfully, the orientation class I missed was the only Monday session of his on my schedule.

I pass the janitor halfway up the stairs, a cloth in one of his hands and a can of furniture spray in the other.

Hmm…lemon.

My favorite.

Now that I’m not arriving at the start of a class time slot, the halls are a lot busier. Some students glance my way, and even a handful smile or raise a hand in greeting, but most of them are too busy staring at their phones or pretending the world doesn’t exist.